Ren Faire- Part 1

As someone who just went to a Renaissance Fair for the first time last month, you could say that I was instantly inspired. Even though I didn't have the same experiences as the guys I'm about to write about, I still had a blast! Also, for my VIP members, I'll be very happy to have these links posted in the new server without issue.

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“Are we really doing this?”

“Yes, let’s just do it before we chicken out.”

Nodding at the other guys in the car, we all passed our phones to Robert who stashed them in the glove compartment. Getting out of the car, the sweltering heat hit us like a freight train, and I already was reaching up to wipe the sweat off my forehead.

“I get that you’re not supposed to take electronics into the festival, but come on, no fans?”

“They didn’t have global warming yet back then.”

“It’s the sixteenth century, Adam, just be glad you don’t have the plague.”

Heading towards the edge of the field where we’d parked, we joined the queue heading into the Renaissance Faire. There was a sizable group of people dressed in shorts and barely buttoned shirts like us, but the majority had gone all out on their costumes. Billowing shirts and tight corsets, swords hanging from people’s backs and hips, and lots of flower crowns. As we weaved through the grove of trees leading towards the entrance, there was a glorious breeze that came with the small bit of shade, and then we were there.

The castle had appeared out of nowhere, and we crossed the bridge over the small creek to get to the gates. Getting closer, it was more obvious that the building was plaster, but it still looked amazing. Walking inside, we were transported half a millennium back in time.

“I was not expecting this.”

I echoed my friend’s statement- I was expecting some booths and drunk people in Party City costumes. Instead, we’d been transported back into some Italian village with permanent buildings spread around the gravel paths. We walked further into the festival, ditching our maps in a trash can when we realized that we couldn’t read the tiny, handwritten picture that had probably been scanned too many times to even be recognizable.

Up ahead, there was a show that apparently consisted of a bunch of “Washing Up Wenches,” and the off-key singing seemed to play second fiddle to the bosoms of the actors. We drifted in and out of shops, looking at grossly overpriced foam swords that at least looked real and incense that acted as a natural nose hair remover. As Adam drew the short straw and agreed to get in line to buy our lunch, we drifted into a store that sold kilts.

Meandering through the tartan fabric hanging from hooks on the wall, I was fascinated by the intricate belts and bags that came with them. As I looked at one particular kilt, in a deep red fabric, Robert grabbed my shoulder.

“Sam, the shop across the street has an actual fan in it! You coming?”

Turning to my two friends, I just said that I’d meet them over there in a bit, and they didn’t hesitate to leave me behind. While a breeze or a non-hand powered fan were hard to come by, there was one thing in abundance at this festival- sexy men. Chest hair and beards and natural musk were all around me, and the burly men were almost intoxicating. I had my eyes on one man in particular in the back of this store with a deep auburn beard that started right below his dimples.

“Well lad, you interested in buying a kilt?”

He had a faint Scottish accent that hinted that he wasn’t faking it but probably just had a grandfather in Scotland, and I melted. Well, melted even more than I already had been because of the heat.

“I’ve never worn one before, but they seem like the proper choice for the weather today.”

“Aye, the natural ventilation definitely helps.”

He maintained eye contact with me as I guiltily glanced down at his lap as he sat back in his chair in the corner of the store. A pair of thick legs stuck out from beneath the tartan fabric, and as he stretched, I saw a hint of his untanned thighs as well.

“So, do you want to wear the kilt like a true Scotsmen?”

Was he flirting?

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Was I flirting?

I wasn’t the type of guy to say these types of lines, but it apparently seemed believable as he winked up at me.

“Gosh, I just can’t stop sweating in here- my glasses have fogged up again.”

Taking his glasses off, the only modern item on him, he held them out to me as if I couldn’t see the condensation forming across the lenses. Lifting the edge of his kilt, he used the fabric to wipe off the glass for far too long, but his message was being delivered loud and clear. The shop wasn’t too bright since we were near the back, but I could clearly see the thick cock and balls resting between his powerful thighs. Glistening with sweat, I imagined my mouth around them back in my air-conditioned apartment until he lowered his kilt again.

“So, what do you say?”

“The offer is tempting, but I’ve seen the price board at the front entrance.”

He smiled at that, a warm smile that lit up his face, as he stood to meet me.

“How about a compromise then? You wear one of my kilts for the rest of the day, and you tell anyone that asks about my shop. If at least three people mention you, then I’ll let you keep it.”

“What if I don’t drive up your sales?”

“I’ll think of something for me.”

His voice had a bit of an edge to it now, and the warmth from his big palm was radiating into my arm.

“Deal.”

A deep laugh erupted from him as he whirled me through the shop back to that red kilt that I’d been eyeing earlier. Wrapping a tape measurer around me, he had the perfect kilt in no time, and he was tying it around my waist. Pulling up my shirt farther than needed to tie on the sporran, he had one palm on my stomach as he practically had me on his knee to steady me.

“You look perfect.”

Standing up in front of an old mirror, I truly did love the way I looked even if the kilt seemed shorter than Owen’s behind me.

“Now, like I said earlier, are you going to wear it like a true Scotsman?”

“I will if you help me.”

There was that smile in the mirror again, and he didn’t even take me back into the shop for the final touches. Right there in view of everyone walking by, Owen reached under my kilt and pulled open the button on my shorts. Pulling open the zipper, he yanked my shorts down to my ankles, but he wasn’t done yet. His hands were still under the kilt as he palmed my ass and began to massage it within his grip. His right hand drifted up towards my bulge, but he lingered there for only a second before pulling my briefs down to my ankles as well.

One lady wolf whistled at us as she walked by with her friends, and I blushed a deep crimson that matched my new outfit for the day.

Owen held my arm to steady me again as I stepped out of my shorts and underwear, and he picked them up and walked further back into the shop with me behind him.

“I think I’ve figured out what I’ll do if you don’t tell people about me.”

“Oh really?”

“These will be mine.” He was holding up my briefs now, and he moved them up to his nose to breathe in my scent. “Oh yes, this will do. You can get your shorts back later when you drop off the kilt, but these would stay with me.”

“How are you so sure that I’ll come back? This kilt is definitely more expensive than those shorts.”

He just smirked again as he leaned in to whisper into my ear.

“Because I may not have it on me now, but I know that you’ll want my phone number to call me later.”

He apparently took my full-body quiver as an affirmative because he just slapped me on the ass to spur me back outside to meet my friends…